


Dawn and Dusk

by Czigany



Category: Kingdoms of Amalur
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-18 22:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 85
Words: 8,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Czigany/pseuds/Czigany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their first encounter would have been called destiny, if he weren't so brash and she weren't Unfated. One possible story for the Hero and Grim Onwig, told 100 words at a time</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brash

Their first encounter would have been called destiny, if he weren’t so brash and she weren’t Unfated. Instead, as she leapt from a ledge overlooking western Lorca-Rane, she spotted a dark shape leaning against the pale stone that comprised much of the ruins in Dalentarth.  
  
She came out of her roll into a crouch, peering up from beneath her hood at the man resting there. Determining him to be non-threatening, at least for the moment, she rose and stalked towards him on silent feet.  
  
“Well met, dove,” he called as she drew near, his voice as rough as the road.


	2. Silence

He straightened as she approached, taking in her leather-clad form with an appreciative light in his grey eyes. She rested a hand lightly on her daggers and he smiled disarmingly; her fingers twitched in response even as she lifted her chin in recognition of his greeting.  
  
“Well you’ve certainly got the bearing and the knowhow, dove. Ever thought of becoming a Traveler?”  
  
Stopping just short of the man, she looked him up and down blatantly before shaking her head once in answer.  
  
“Not much of a talker, eh? That’s alright. The Hierophant talks enough for all of us these days.”


	3. The Road

“Who?” she asked. Her voice was solid but quiet, muffled slightly by the cloth covering the lower half of her face.  
  
His chuckle was as gravelly as his speech. “The Hierophant is the leader of the Travelers, or as much as we’ve got one. For all that we’re not strictly thieves and that we live under the rule of no king, country, or god, they tell us where to go and what to steal.”  
  
Her hesitance was palpable, and he gestured to a faint path wending beneath an arch of trees. “See for yourself how we live, dove, then decide.”


	4. Fog

It was early the next morning when she emerged from Star Camp; it looked as though he hadn’t moved an inch. Stepping lightly over the dew-wet ground, she stopped beside him.  
  
“Sent you out on a job already, did they?” he asked before she could speak.  
  
Her chin lifted after a brief pause. Neither spoke for a long while as the sun began to rise and burn off the swirling fog. Finally she shifted and began to leave, ducking her head in farewell.  
  
“Shadows keep you,” he murmured. Her hand waved briefly in acknowledgment before she disappeared into the trees.


	5. The Knave

Upon return, she entered the camp from Haxhi, avoiding the sentinel in Lorca-Rane. She presented her trophies to the willowy Fae in charge and was assured they would make their way to the Hierophant in due course.  
  
“There is another job waiting, when you’re ready.”  
  
She turned towards the small shrine near the archery targets. However, the Knave of Coins spoke again. “Grim never recruits from the roads. There must be something about you that only he and the Hierophant see.”  
  
She didn’t respond, but when she had received her next task she left once more by the northern road.


	6. Questions

This time as she approached him she didn’t try to be quiet, so he didn’t pretend to be asleep.  
  
“Good hunting?” he asked, tipping his head to the side to watch her as she mimicked his pose against the sun-warmed stone.  
  
She nodded almost absently and watched him from the corner of her eye. Finally she spoke hesitantly. “The Knave says you’re grim?”  
  
His rough laugh rolled around them. “Of all the questions you might have, dove... She only calls me by name; I haven’t got a fancy title. Don’t need one.”  
  
She nodded again and they lapsed into silence.


	7. Parting

“After another mark, then?” He straightened as she did, both absently checking and adjusting their weapons.  
  
Lengthening shadows marked the late progress of the afternoon. “In the Sidhe.”  
  
“Well, watch your quarron in there, it’s full of wild magic.”  
  
“And you?”  
  
“To Ohn’s Stand; the Heirophant wants a book.”  
  
They watched the forest a moment longer, then she tugged the edge of her hood and slanted a last glance his way. “Shadows cloak you, as you say.”  
  
“You as well, dove. Swift returns.” he replied, tugging his hood as she had.  
  
So they parted, one north and the other south.


	8. Deep Cover

She wasn’t pleased.  
  
Stealing a pair of boots, from Faekin or no, was entirely within the scope of what she expected from her mission. Instead, she had spent days traversing the Sidhe to arrive at Arduath, and still she was expected to face Ametair in open combat.  
  
She dabbed at a shallow cut on her left thigh. Perhaps ‘open combat’ wasn’t quite the right term. She was fast running out of arrows and his whirling faeblades kept her at a distance; her daggers were useless in this battle.  
  
Waking her little-used magic, she followed Ametair’s voice deeper into his domain.


	9. Rites

She slumped against one of Arduath’s living walls; Fateshifting always left her exhausted. She allowed herself a only brief rest before moving to kneel beside the body of the Lord of the Hunt.  
  
Drawing on the knowledge she had earned by absorbing Ametair’s Fate Threads, she removed the boots before arranging his body beneath one of the stone guardian faces, murmuring words she knew but did not understand beyond that this was the time to say them.  
  
When she emerged from the branch-guarded cave, Aergase was waiting. The Herald merely nodded sadly and closed Arduath from the world once more.


	10. Returns

Again she entered Star Camp from Haxhi. This time not out of avoidance, but out of impatience; she wanted this job done with.  
  
After she had presented her prize to Crilgarin, she made to escape to the edge of camp as had become her habit, but the Knave’s hand at her elbow prevented escape. Before she could think of retaliating for the unwelcome contact, it withdrew and in its place the solemn Fae offered two folded squares of parchment. Before she could open them, Crilgarin murmured, “Outside; out of range,” eyes flickering to the Shrine.  
  
She hesitated, nodded, then obeyed.


	11. Ciphers

Neither note was unfolded until she was deep into the Sidhe again. Crouched on a ledge above a pack of frolicking brownies, she spread both notes out before her. At first glance, both were only covered in meaningless scratch, but as she stared she could begin to see patterns in the markings.  
  
Acting on whispers of forgotten knowledge, she held the pages up to the little sunlight that filtered through the thick trees and rotated one atop the other until a message appeared.  
  
 _Tread ginger; H crossed us._  
  
And in a different hand, one she suspected was Crilgarin’s,  
  
 _Find him._


	12. The Keep

She wasn’t sure what she thought Ohn’s Stand actually was, but a stone fortress didn’t seem to fit the image of the Winter Fae she’d heard about in the House of Ballads. Still, she dispatched the ogres who had made their camps outside its doors and cautiously entered the keep.  
  
Creeping along the stone hallways, she hissed in a sharp breath and slid into a shadowed alcove as small footsteps sounded from ahead. Producing a small mirror, she used it to peer around the corner.  
  
She bared her teeth as she spotted the gnome centurion. Gods, but she hated gnomes.


	13. Waiting

She waited for the patrol to pass then continued along the hallways, keeping mental tabs on all those she could sense around her, wandering the keep.  
  
She masked a smile when she finally found the wayward Traveler; Grim was leaning against a wall as if he were out in the forests instead of locked in a gated cell. Silently, she reached through the bars and touched him lightly on the arm. He tilted his head just enough to peer at her from under his hood, grey eyes hard.  
  
“It’s good you’ve come, dove,” he murmured. “I’ve been waiting for you.”


	14. Circumstances

“You can’t dub this one, dove. We need the key.”  
  
She looked up from where she was pulling her tools from their pockets. Glancing at the lock, she saw the glimmer of magic across its surface and sighed soundlessly. Replacing her picks, she stood and leaned against the gate at his side.  
  
“Where?”  
  
“The head gnome’s got it. The way I figure, you’ve got two ways of getting it off him.”  
  
She canted her head, a mute gesture to continue.  
  
“You either get it from him directly, or you get the book I was sent for and trade for it.”


	15. Plans

Her hand slid to her daggers as her eyes narrowed in thought. “How about both?”  
  
He gave her a rusty chuckle. “Don’t get too greedy. As soon as anyone lays a hand on the Missives, the gnomes will be all over them. One centurion - maybe five - and you’d have no problem, but a whole platoon? I like you better breathing, dove.”  
  
“Gnomes first, then the mark?”  
  
He shrugged. “Centurion Gastet is on one side of the keep, the book is on the other. He goes down and the rest will find the book and flee. It’s one or the other.”


	16. One Down

Before she could respond, footsteps sounded down the stone hallway; the patrol was returning. Sliding away from his door, she crouched in the shadows of the opposite cell. Across the hall, Grim was relaxing back into his disinterested pose.  
  
She waited as the gnome came into sight and, four steps past her hiding place, she struck. One blade found a gap in his breastplate, sinking to the hilt in soft flesh. The other came up and across his neck, spraying red across the stone floor. Laying the body down gently, silently, she wiped her daggers clean before sheathing them again.


	17. Fated

“Savage, but efficient.”  
  
Suddenly furious, she stalked back to him and gripped the bars of his prison, eyes flashing in the torchlight.  
  
“Why are you so calm?”  
  
He thought for a moment before straightening from the wall and facing her.  
  
“Why’re you so upset?”  
  
She frowned and looked away.  
  
“Look dove,” his rough voice was soothing, “either you’re Fated to rescue me or you’re not. It does no good to waste my energy fighting now.”  
  
“I’m not--!” she sputtered briefly.  
  
Then she was leaning close, teeth bared, looking more vicious than he’d ever seen her before.  
  
“I have no Fate.”


	18. Regret

She regretted saying it later, as she watched Gastet pace and waited for the right moment to attack. Certainly she had thought about what happened every time she killed someone - no one was Fated to die by her hands any longer - but to actually let someone know?  
  
As she searched the centurion’s body for the key to Grim’s cell, she wondered if he understood what was happening to his own Fate just by her existing near him.  
  
But when she stood before him again she could find no words and so simply unlocked the door and turned to leave.  
  
“Wait...”


	19. Moving On

She stopped, tense, but didn’t turn.  
  
He sighed, “I’m no jarkman dove, but I’ll say this as best I can.”  
  
There was a pause as he collected his thoughts. “However you think you’ve done me wrong, you haven’t. I never asked a Fateweaver for anything; never wanted to know when, where, or how I died. It doesn’t matter now anyway.”  
  
She heard him shift once more and turned her head to meet his grey eyes as he came even with her. “There’s a much larger job to do now. I could use your help with it, if you’re still willing.”


	20. Mutiny

He didn’t elaborate until they were outside, turning his face to the sun for the first time in a week. When she only stared at him, waiting, he smiled to himself and settled against the outer wall of Ohn’s Stand. “It’s dangerous, of course, and we won’t be able to rely on the other Travelers.”  
  
She produced the notes the Knave had given her, a question in her eyes. He glanced at them, then nodded. “Crilgarin is the exception.”  
  
When he didn’t continue, she huffed quietly. “What, exactly, is this job?”  
  
“Why dove, we’re going to bring down the Hierophant.”


	21. Cross-Cove

She thought about it for a long while, both of them silently letting the sun warm their bodies after the chill of the keep. Finally, though she had all but accepted that she would help, she asked, “Why?”  
  
Grim sighed softly, staring out onto the hills and valleys beyond her shoulder. “That last job, for the Missives, I wasn’t supposed to come out alive.”  
  
She looked at him sharply, “You said-”  
  
“Dove, it doesn’t take a Fateweaver to know what the Hierophant wanted to happen to me in there. That book _belongs_ to the gnomes, and they don’t take prisoners.”


	22. Division

Grim watched her face harden before she turned away, studying the same landscape he’d just been contemplating.  
  
“What now, then?”  
  
“Crilgarin’ll likely send you on to Moon Camp. It’ll be easier for her to work if you’re tucked away east.”  
  
She gave him a confused glance.  
  
“You’re a wildcard. The Hierophant has to be a Seer of some kind; if you have no Fate you’re a puzzle, a piece they need to fit in somewhere profitable. Where you go, so does the Hierophant's attention.”  
  
“Until I’m a liability to them instead.”  
  
His reply was uncharacteristically fierce. “I’ll kill them first.”


	23. Into Cups

Moon Camp was... festive, she decided. The salt breeze rustled the brightly coloured banners hung everywhere and tempered the heat of days on the Plains with little tree cover. The inhabitants were no less gaily dressed than their tents, and they greeted her with a brightness that rivaled the midday sun. It set her on edge; it wasn’t until she approached their leader that she discovered the cause to the camp’s overpowering cheerfulness.  
  
Irion Mar, the King of Cups, was depressed. Cripplingly so. She listened half-heartedly to his marital woes before escaping to the relative sanity of the Hierophant’s Shrine.


	24. Complications

Rathir, while huge, was much more stuffy than she’d anticipated. Inter-house politics and the bite of class warfare whistled through the rocks as easily as the sea’s chill. The first two of her marks were easy to get, and she was pleased at the lack of fuss when she lifted the ring and chalice from their overconfident owners.  
  
As for the last... she sighed. The cowl was being held by the former Queen of Cups. Perhaps it would be best for her to just take it from the woman. But no, she thought, confrontation would be more satisfactory this time.


	25. All Sides

When she slipped into the quiet alcove where her quarry hid, Maire Ganan looked up immediately. “Who are you?”  
  
She merely shook her head, “Why have you left Moon Camp?”  
  
A scoff, “Did my husband send you? Too weak to follow me himself.”  
  
“Irion weeps, broken by the departure of his Queen.”  
  
“That womaniser cries for nothing but the loss of a pretty face.”  
  
Adopting Grim’s favoured pose, she gestured lazily to the scrying bowl before them. “You have seen this? Or heard it from... someone?”  
  
Maire looked uncomfortable, unsure. “They have never lied to me before.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“The Hierophant.”


	26. Relative Truths

Silence reigned in the small alcove as the women merely stared at each other. Abruptly, Maire’s gaze dropped and she drew the scrying bowl closer. Murmured words and the sharp tang of magic confirmed the King’s state.  
  
Softly, the Queen asked, “You are here for the Cowl of the Maiden?” There was only a nod in response.  
  
"Take it then.” A soft, cream-coloured bundle was pushed across the table. “I will return to my husband, but I doubt I will ever return to the Travelers."  
  
Securing her prize, she slipped from the alcove with only a tip of her hood.


	27. Cups Overflow

She left the chalice, ring, and cowl with Eren Calse; assured that the fence would keep them safe until Irion could be trusted to deliver them.  
  
Approaching the King of Cups, she watched him drown his sorrows in the shade of the tent he once shared with his wife. Setting a filched bottle of Maybryn wine on the table in front of him, she waited for his blurry attention before telling him softly that his Queen was soon to return.  
  
As the news rippled through camp, she gave Irion one last measured look and turned again to the Hierophant’s Shrine.


	28. Partner

She wasn’t used to working with a partner and, given the choice, she certainly wouldn’t have picked _this_ one for any job besides a full-frontal assault. Phasmer Humm rushed ahead in everything, impatient and reckless as he flung himself from place to place.  
  
Breath hissed between her teeth in reubke as Phasmer darted forward once more, pressing switches and opening gateways so that she could follow. His calls to hurry grated in her ears more than the rusty portcullis before her as it slid upwards. He was going to get them both injured or killed; something she could not tolerate.


	29. Foolishness

She resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. Phasmer was frozen before the small pile of riches, a look of shock and pain on his face and the gem they had come to get gripped in his fist.  
  
Resolved that she could do nothing for him alone and ignorant of the gem’s other properties, still she hesitated in returning to Moon Camp with news of their failure. Turning her back on the motionless man, she headed for the only hallway left unexplored. He would be as safe as she could make him before she left for help.


	30. Help

She was surprised but relieved to find Grim waiting for her when she emerged in Rithen’s dank entrance hall. Stopping just short of where he stood, she looked him over intently. “They haven’t found you yet. I’m glad.”  
  
He smirked, “Oh they’ve found me dove, they’ve just never returned to their master.”  
  
They watched each other in comfortable silence for a moment before she gestured faintly in the direction she’d come. “Phasmer...” she trailed off, unsure how to explain.  
  
He merely nodded, “It’s why you were sent here; a trap for you both. I have something that should release him.”


	31. Recruiting

Pocketing the Tear of Mitharu and the Amulet of Rithen, she watched as Phasmer shook off the immobility he had been trapped with. As he turned to thank her, he paused.  
  
“...Grim’s here? They said he died.” He shook his head in disbelief and turned back to her. “Well, thank you for freeing me anyway. When I was cursed, I didn’t know what would happen.”  
  
She only nodded, stepping further away in silent request that Grim explain his own presence with them.  
  
“Phasmer, good to see you moving. I have a little revenge in mind, if you want to help...”


	32. Invisible

When Phasmer had left, eager to exact retribution for the Hierophant’s betrayal, Grim returned to her side. “I’ve got it mostly figured, dove. Remember that book I was sent to grab? The Missives?”  
  
“The set-up with the gnomes,” she snarled.  
  
Grim chuckled and clapped her shoulder gently. “Aye. We’re going to make the little bastards work for us this time, but first we need to find where they stashed the book.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“The Glass of Ambient can find anything, wherever it is. I need you to grab it.”  
  
“Why me?”  
  
“Because for all the Hierophant sees, they can’t see you.”


	33. The Weave

She stepped into his personal space, teeth bared beneath the cloth covering her lower face, “I thought the purpose of sending me east was to draw their eyes. Now you claim they can’t see me at all?”  
  
His hands came up, placating, “I had a talk with that Fateweaver friend of yours; asked him to explain what it all looks like. You’re a hole in the weave: you draw attention, but they can’t see you.”  
  
He settled his hands on her shoulders.“You want out dove, you just say the word, but the Hierophant won’t let you go so easy.”


	34. And Me

She looked away but didn’t move from his loose hold. After a moment, she returned his gaze with a flat stare. “I won’t back down.”  
  
He nodded and started to withdraw when she gripped his biceps in return. Gaze intent, she continued, “Not for myself, Grim. I can’t allow them to continue their manipulations. I’m a cold-blooded killer and perhaps I deserved my death, however it came. But how many people like you and Phasmer have they hushed? His only crime against them was denying their godhood.” She trailed off.  
  
Grey eyes glinting, he leaned in further. “And me, dove?”


	35. Waltzing

When she didn’t reply, Grim sighed softly. “Planning this coup’s likely the least of my crimes, and I’ve got blood on my hands as much as any soldier. Thing is, before you came along, there wasn’t anything I could do to change that.”  
  
Silence.  
  
“We’re almost as bad as the Fae,” he said, and she met his eyes, startled. “Stuck performing our Fated little dances with no room for extra moves. Now, though, we can choose new partners as we like.”  
  
“I was going to say,” a smirk in her voice, “‘And you could use a shave.’”  
  
He only laughed.


	36. Forewarnings

“Where is the Glass, then?” She spoke softly, as if that alone could keep the Hierophant’s gaze from them.  
  
Grim took a step back, running a hand along his jaw distractedly. “An old Erathi ruin to the south called the Blackened Hall,” he sighed. “Between you and the Glass’ll be an army of demons and three trials.  
  
“I don’t like sending you in alone, dove, but we can’t give up the game just yet. I’ve left Buru’s Boots at the entrance for you; they should have just enough magic left to get past the first trial, the Aisle of Flame.”


	37. Forarmed

They began to walk as they talked, both eager to taste fresh air again.  
  
“The second trial is the Dark Maze. I wish I had something to help you but it’s a labyrinth of hidden paths, full of niskaru. They say the walls move on their own in there and even a ball of string won’t help you get out again.”  
  
She nodded in understanding, and he continued. “The last trial is the Guardian. Supposedly it’s a huge demon; one that can’t be killed. But if you use the Amulet you should be able to curse it like Phamser was.”


	38. Farewells

One heavy door stood ajar as they approached, and through the crack she could see a group of Tuatha gathering in the distance. She stopped Grim with a hand at his elbow.  
  
“I’ll go first,” she murmured. “The Fae out there are after me. No reason to catch you in the crossfire.”  
  
He looked wary, but agreed. “Be careful dove, and shadows keep you.”  
  
She smiled, though he didn’t see, and stepped in close. Before he could react, she’d tugged her mask down and ghosted her lips across his cheek. “You as well,” she sighed, shutting the door behind her.


	39. Trial: Agility

She waited for the Fae’s soft lilt to complete its echoing song before opening the door to the Aisle of Flame. The captured stories in Lorestones drew her with more than curiosity.  
  
As the trap-ridden hallway revealed itself, she toed off her leather shoes, tucking them safely into the small pack Grim had left. Tying it to her belt, she eyed Buru’s Boots regretfully before slipping them on. Sprinting around flame-touched corners, she recalled a piece of wisdom granted by the dying Lord of the Hunt.

_Why search for a way back? The future is spread before you. Embrace it._


	40. Trial: Endurance

She eyed the pack of niskaru roaming the room before her and contemplated Fateshifting. The knowledge gleaned from Shift-kills was always chaotic; more so if it came from a beast or demon like those before her. If she Shifted now, she wouldn’t be able to summon the focus to do so against the Guardian. However, if the Guardian was unkillable she would gain nothing from it anyway.  
  
Mind made up, she stepped silently into the room. Centering herself, she pushed down and out, grabbing handfuls of the fabric of Fate and _pulling_. The world slowed around her and turned violet.


	41. Trial: Cunning

She had never thought of demons having genders before now, but the Fate Threads of the niskaru she’d absorbed screeched _motherprotector!_ from their place in the back of her mind when the Guardian raised itself - herself - before the small dais where the Glass was enshrined. Something to think on later.  
  
Dodging fireballs with a combination of stolen knowledge and instinct, she steadily made her way closer to the large beast. She used that same knowledge to guide her blades, and only when she had frozen the unkillable Guardian ( _creatordefender!_ ) in place did the flickering, resonating Threads fall silent once more.


	42. Trial: Confidence

She edged around her petrified adversary to the dais behind it. Though she knew the Guardian would have killed her, the newest part of her hurt to see the niskaru so still.  
  
She was careful to blank her mind as she picked up the Glass of Ambient. Unsure of its magics, she hastily wrapped it in cloth and tucked it away safe.  
  
Cautiously, she stepped back into the entrance hall. Uncharacteristic nervousness filled her when she spotted Grim leaning near where he’d left his gift. Still, she approached him with sure steps and swiftly brought the mirror out between them.


	43. Uncertainty

Grim pulled away from the wall as she stepped close. “Dove...” he started, before she thrust their prize before him. Taking it slowly, he kept his eyes on her for a moment longer before turning them to the bundle she’d handed off.  
  
“This here’s the Glass of Ambient, then?” He uncovered it and focused on the reflective surface for a time before rewrapping it and stowing the mirror in his own pack.  
  
There was a minute of tense silence before she finally looked up, huffing out an impatient “Well?”  
  
He shifted even closer, watching her intently. “Up to you, dove.”


	44. Serious

She hesitated briefly, uncertainty apparent in the lines of her body. He raised one hand, nudging her hood back with ungloved fingers to expose one delicate ear. Tilting his head, Grim rumbled softly across it. “Seems I ought to ask again, so dove... ‘and me?’”  
  
“Depends,” she breathed, unconsciously leaning in to his faint touch.  
  
“On what?”  
  
She turned towards him again, watching him watching her as she pulled her mask down and away. “On how serious you are.”  
  
His grey eyes flicked down, focusing on her mouth for the briefest moment before returning her gaze without flinching. “Deadly.”


	45. Distraction

She seemed startled at his frank answer, eyes widening before falling half-closed. She moistened suddenly dry lips. “Oh, good.”  
  
Grim’s previously light touch firmed; the hand at her ear slid to cradle the base of her skull, the other snaked around her waist. Her own hands fisted in the fabric covering his chestplate as he hauled her against it and kissed her heatedly.  
  
They parted reluctantly a few minutes later, trying to restore equilibrium as they recovered their breath.  
  
“As much as I want to continue this somewhere more comfortable, dove,” Grim murmured, “we’ve got to finish off the Hierophant first.”


	46. Tolliban Rigging

Grim was silent as she replaced her mask and resettled her hood. Only as they began leaving the Blackened Hall did he speak.  
  
“We’ll have to part ways here again. You’ve got to keep acting normal while I set up the grab for the Missives. Phasmer will be a big help there, but you’ll have to bite the blow on this one too.”  
  
She huffed, amused.  
  
“Make your way south to Sun Camp. Argine’s the leader there, see what she’s got for you. Wouldn’t trust her, though. Real fanatical follower of the Hierophant, that one.”  
  
Nodding, she took her leave.


	47. Sun Baked

She had thought the Plains of Erethell were hot, but it was nothing compared to the scorched canyons that made up Detyre. Sun Camp was situated on a cliff overlooking Phorian Strait, and she was again grateful for the howl of the sea wind against Apotyre’s red rocks.  
  
She was hard pressed to remain expressionless, giving nothing away as the camp’s leader Argine began to rant about Grim and the wild rumors of his plans. Devoted to the Hierophant indeed, it seemed. When the Hierophant was removed, she promised herself to return and make sure Argine was hushed as well.


	48. Prey

The Shrine provided no relief from the stinging in her cheek where she’d bit it in order to stay silent. She played the obedient protégé well however, feigning ignorance of the intended meaning behind the parable of eagle and sun even as they called her Shade.  
  
Only when she had left the camp again did she allow herself a smile. She, the Shade, the shadow, the Hierophant’s chosen instrument. How foolish they were, believing that the sun cast the shadow when it was the circling eagle that determined its path.  “‘Shadows keep you’ indeed, Grim,” she laughed quietly to herself.


	49. Eroding Sandstone

Adessa was bright, if dusty. What wasn’t in this sun-cracked land? It was also full of tiny people she loathed. She kept her furious monologue internal as she navigated their political landscape; sidestepping loaded favors, empty promises, and binding contracts as easily as she did the small persons offering them.  
  
She was unsurprised to find that the house she’d been ‘given’ upon entering the city was full of spies. Slipping them easily, she made her way to the Hospitalis Quarters to trade a spare set of daggers for a semi-private berth. Lodging secured, she set out to find her mark.


	50. Compensating

It was almost laughable how completely massive the gnomes felt they needed to build their structures. She strolled through the giant front doors of the Adessa Laboratories as though she owned it. Ignoring the assistants scurrying about frantically, she made straight for Eloren Criet’s lab.  
  
Cornering her target, she swallowed her dislike and played charming. When she had determined that the little alchemist no longer possessed what she needed, she ended their chat as politely as her dwindling patience allowed and stalked back out to the streets. Breathing deep, she centered herself before once more melting back into shadowed alleyways.


	51. In & Out

She waited three days before making her move on the jewelry box said to contain the Master’s Pick. Not that she expected much resistance or reprisal, but it felt almost like advertising to take it soon after she’d blatantly questioned Alchemist Criet before witnesses.  
  
The Armory was ridiculously easy to enter undetected, however. She didn’t bother with the front door, simply slipped in a high, unguarded window. For all their political backstabbing, gnomes were exceedingly straightforward with everything else.   
  
She was in and out before anyone noticed; the ornate box in hand and an extra clink to her gold pouch.


	52. Disgusted

To say Argine was unimpressed with the take was an understatement. The Queen of Staves glared viciously at the box before ordering her to find the Arrivus Engine and extract whatever was inside. She left, hiding a smirk beneath her mask, the sound of Argine’s ranting in her ears.  
  
The Engine was easy enough to find; she had stumbled across Guian Stebic before ever reaching Sun Camp. She skirted the crazed gnome, dubbed his laboratory door, and stepped inside cautiously.   
  
Soon she was Shifting, extracting knowledge from the Faer Gorta who had once been Stebic’s assistants before becoming his experiments.


	53. Useful Knowledge

She fell to her knees as the skeletons crumbled to dust around her. The agony of their last years had permeated their Threads so heavily that she could only curl up tightly, gasping painfully as she incorporated them into herself.  
  
When the torment passed, she stood slowly, shakily, and made her way into the room that housed her target. Using what she had learned from the ex-assistants, she placed the box beneath the Engine’s focusing lens, adjusting a few knobs before gradually powering it on.  
  
A deep hum, and then an unremarkable pick sat unbroken beside the intact, unopenable box.


	54. Revenge

She didn’t have to think hard about the wisdom of handing over such an item to the Hierophant. Stashing the Master’s Pick in with her own kit, she instead withdrew a prismere and snapped it in thirds. Placing the pieces in a small pouch, she packed up the box and slipped from the lab once more.  
  
Before she returned to camp however, she had unfinished business upstairs. Guian Stebic may have been insane, but her own hatred had been inflamed by those who had trusted and been betrayed by the little alchemist. She left no one in the building alive.


	55. Obfuscations

“The Hierophant predicted you would steal the Master’s Pick, and yet you come back with...” Argine trailed off, clearly disgusted by the contents of the bag she’d been given.  
  
Stifling a smirk, she replied, “But I have; it is before you.”  
  
“But how could they be wrong? That it could be broken by the very machine that should have liberated it... I have followed the Hierophant for years and they have always spoken truth!” The Queen of Staves turned away angrily, hand flashing towards the Shrine. “They have another job for you. Leave me.”  
  
She complied silently, hiding her amusement.


	56. Wind Blown

There was new viciousness in the Hierophant’s words as they described her next task. Discreetly, she cast her eye back towards Argine’s caravan but the way was obscured by other camp structures. Tellingly, the voice from the Shrine indicated that this revenge was not for the whole of the Travelers; this one was personal.  
  
Suspicions in hand she entered Convict’s Cavern that night, ghosting over ridiculous ‘traps’ before settling outside the cell that housed her target.  
  
“Well, well,” a soft, teasing voice drifted out between the bars of his cage. “Look what the desert winds have brought for old Maun.”


	57. Raven

“You _are_ a Traveler, aren’t you little crow? Sun Camp’s own portent of death, come to gloat on the eve of mine,” Maun sighed dramatically.  
  
“Traveler I may be,” she murmured back, ignoring the mocking lilt in his voice, “but I am not here to gloat.”  
  
“Ah, been sent for my great hoard then, have you? Well, I’m stuck in here ‘til Gallowstime, so I suppose it’s yours.” He slid a key through the gate bars. She didn’t even glance at it.  
  
He huffed, amused and annoyed all at once. “Why are you here then? Surely not just to chat.”


	58. Crow

She observed him carefully and at her silence he sobered, withdrawing his key and smile as one. As the stalemate became uncomfortable, she returned his question. “Why are you here?”  
  
“Gambling,” he answered candidly.  
  
“That’s a swinging offense?”  
  
“Ah.” His mouth twisted in a rueful smile. “No, that was self-defense.”  
  
She quirked an eyebrow in disbelief and he chuckled humorlessly.  
  
“These mercenaries,” he gestured vaguely at the guards patrolling behind her, “They draw steel on you for imagined slights, then cry foul when you prove better at the blade. They call it murder and demand a life for a life.”


	59. Rook

“You are called bloodthirsty outside these walls. The Hierophant named you brigand and cutthroat, highwayman and bandit. You deny these claims?”  
  
This time his laugh echoed loudly off the stone around them. “By Lupoku, her lies spread further every day. I have killed, yes, but I do not seek death. My fortune was made with cards and tricks, not blades and poisons.”  
  
She nodded, suspicions confirmed. While he calmed himself once more, she toyed with the tools at her belt.  
  
After a moment, she spoke quietly. “Would you be free?”  
  
“Little raven, if it were possible, I’d already be gone.”


	60. Castling

He laid his hand on the gate between them. “Normally a lack of tools couldn’t stop old Maun from going where he pleases, but they’ve done something to the jig.”  
  
She smiled beneath her mask and produced a perfectly ordinary looking pick. A moment’s tinkering at the lock produced a faint click.  
  
“Ah,” he murmured, pleasantly surprised. “I see you’re no raven, but a _rukh_ instead.”  
  
When the guards came in the morning, the only evidence that the cell had been inhabited was a parchment tucked between the bars. On it was drawn a quarterstaff topped by a bloody circlet.


	61. Aerie

High in the rocks above Apotyre, two figures watching the desperate scramble below were joined by a third.  
  
“Managed to escape again, eh Maun?”  
  
“Ah, Grim,” the dandy greeted the thief warmly. “I had a most welcome rescue from this lovely rook. Does put a bit of a kink into my plans for a memorable send-off though,” he sighed.  
  
At the twin looks of interest on his companion’s faces, the Cointaker produced the key he’d offered her in the cavern. Grim took it silently. “There’s no real treasure. Only a note I’d hoped would make its way into Argine’s hands.”


	62. Remembrance

She spoke for the first time since they’d left the cool cave below. “Why Argine?”  
  
Maun sighed, giving her a glance before turning to where Sun Camp was visible across the plains. “We were lovers once, before she was shown that blasted cave.”  
  
His audience shared a confused look, but didn’t interrupt.  
  
“Ah, you didn’t know? There has always been a Hierophant, but it hasn’t always been Argine. Before he died, the old Hierophant determined that Argine was the best candidate to continue in his place. We argued and, when she accepted the offer, I left as swore I would.”


	63. Sunburnt

“Well,” Grim broke the silence that had fallen. “That makes the rest of this a bit easier, don’t it dove.”  
  
She eyed both men in turn. “And if Maun objects to our plans?”  
  
The alfari laughed lightly. “There is no need to worry, I’ve no love left for that mort. I’d even help, but I fear she really would be the death of me.”  
  
Grim chuckled as well, clapping Maun on the shoulder before turning away and gesturing her to follow. “Luck to your flats, Cointaker.”  
  
“Good hunting, _sasok_ ,” he replied, eyes still on Sun Camp as they slipped away.


	64. Whistlers

By mutual agreement, they cleared Snaketail Grotto of the feuding Zungar and Darkvari so she could deliver Maun’s note to the Queen of Staves. Retrieving all three pieces of the delicate puzzle key, they unlocked the room containing his fabled hoard.  
  
Grim laughed and knelt, letting the glass beads and brass ingots strewn about sift through his fingers. “Cointaker certainly knows how to pull a con.”  
  
She hummed in agreement, picking her way through the piles to the single chest and extracting what they’d come for. She glanced over the note briefly before tucking it away safe at her belt.


	65. Teasing

“Time to step up our plans, then,” Grim spoke quietly as they made their way back to the surface. “I’m back to Adessa to get Phasmer moving on the setup in the Livrarium. Thankfully, Crilgarin has already arrived on the pretense of Fae business.”  
  
“You’ll need me soon?” It was a serious question, laced with teasing undertones.  
  
“Ah dove,” he groaned, “Not fair asking a man that, but yes. We’ll be needing your thieving skills soon.”  
  
He spun, catching her around the waist and dragging her close. Stealing a kiss, he murmured “After that, I’ll take anything you’ll give me.”


	66. Ravaged

She returned to a camp littered with bodies. Brows raised, she picked her way between the ruined caravans to where Argine paced furiously. When she approached, the Queen of Staves whirled about, eyes blazing. “Where have you been?”  
  
She offered only an incredulous look and the note from Maun. Escaping whilst Sun Camp’s leader read, she hid a smirk when a frustrated scream sounded behind her.  
  
Eavesdropping idly on her way back to greater Apotyre she learned that the mercenaries, furious at Cointaker’s escape, had attacked those they believed had freed him. Expecting little resistance, they’d instead suffered heavy losses.


	67. Undermining

She offered aid and subtle suggestions to those injured Travelers she passed as she left camp. Many agreed that perhaps a visit to another camp or distant relatives was warranted, at least for a short while. By the time she slipped out the gates, even those keen to rebuild Sun Camp were packing bags and following her lead.  
  
She sauntered towards Adessa, confident that when they returned to take on the Hierophant there would be no resistance aside from the woman herself. Re-entering the city, she wove her way back to the Hospitalis Quarters and the soft bed waiting there.


	68. Fading Out

She was glad to see Grim had managed to calm Phasmer’s reckless tendencies when she met him in the corner of the Livrarium. He was nervous and shifted too much to be anything but suspicious, but he’d do for a distraction.  
  
Though they’d gone over the plan countless times, she still shuddered as the slick material of the Shroud of Omission was wrapped about her. She noted the changes in her accomplice immediately: the look of confusion as he turned away, the head shake, and the total ignorance of her continued presence beside him.  
  
Silently, she entered the lower levels.


	69. Carnage

Despite the Shroud’s protection, she took no chances. Every gnome that crossed her path fell to her silent blades. Perhaps she should have been more concerned at the loss of so many potential allies against the Tuatha, but the little bastards hadn’t shown any initiative so far in helping win the war. She felt no remorse painting the floor of their precious vault with their own blood.  
  
She made her way through the labyrinth of stacks, disdainful of the care shown the ‘most valuable’ books in Adessa. Rolling her eyes at the ridiculous fire ‘trial,’ she entered the deepest vault.


	70. Jonesing It

Even though she was expecting some sort of trap, she couldn’t help scoffing at the poorly disguised signs of a pressure plate on the altar enshrining the book she’d come for. What was this, some sort of ha’copper adventure novel?  
  
Casting about, she found a slightly thicker tome on a nearby shelf. Betting that the trap wasn’t weighted for the Missives alone, she draped a corner of the Shroud across the altar and slid the new volume into place. Clutching her prize close, she made her way out of the mouldering depths of Adessa’s underground as swiftly as she could.


	71. Nervous

It was a strange feeling, she decided later, to know the Missives existed one moment and in the next have all thoughts about the book slip away like sand in a breeze. Folding the last corner of the Shroud of Omission around - what was in there again? Ah, she could work it out later - she secured the fabric and tucked it away safe in her pack.  
  
She went over the rest of their plan in her head for what felt like the thousandth time. Obsessively, she checked her weapons; it was the only nervousness she showed over the approaching confrontation.


	72. Six Feet

She’d been amused to learn that the ‘secret entrance’ to the Hierophant’s lair was a permanently unfilled grave at the rear of the sprawling camp. How blind did Argine think her followers to be?  
  
Slithering down what looked more like a bolt hole than a way in, she approached the larger chambers beyond with silent steps. Despite her caution, she found Argine herself waiting around the first bend.  
  
“My Shade,” the Queen of Staves greeted with honeyed malice. “At last I can speak to you with my true voice. You no longer have need to carry out your meaningless plan.”


	73. The Offer

She remained silently distrustful as the Hierophant rambled on about loyal followers and the futility of crossing her. An eyebrow raised as the Traveler’s leader claimed to have been able to see enough of the others to have been aware of what they’d been up to.  
  
But when Argine made no indication of blaming her for the escape of Maun and the subsequent mercenary attack, she knew the woman was bluffing heavily. Though she needed no more reason to end the delusional Varani’s life, Argine’s next words stoked her rage to a fever pitch.  
  
“Join me and frame Grim instead.”


	74. Persuasion

When there was no response, the Queen of Staves pressed on. “You must know that he sees you as no more than a tool - a means to the end.”  
  
Again she said nothing, eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. Argine, watching her closely, took her reaction as contemplation rather than the anger it was. “It was no coincidence that he was the one to approach you outside of Star Camp. Doubtless he knew that you were Fateless long before you arrived.”  
  
As the Hierophant began attacking Grim’s character, she swallowed a snarl and bit the inside of her cheek until it bled.


	75. Denial

“I refuse,” she growled, cutting across the varani’s egotistical ramblings of how wonderful the two of them would work together.  
  
Argine paused, shocked, though she covered it quickly with a patronising grin. “So you claim, but nothing is decided, and you will find your helpers are not as useful as you believe. Think on my offer and take this key. It will open the Hierophant’s Court; Grim will be in the East wing. Do the right thing, or face my wrath.”  
  
With that, a stone door closed between them, locking magically as it slid into place.  
  
She fireballed it anyway.


	76. Misdirection

When she finally met up with Crilgarin deeper in the cave system, she startled the normally unflappable Fae with the harsh set of her body and the fierce hatred in her voice. Once she’d explained Argine’s insulting offer and the possible existence of hostiles in the tunnels, she was startled in return as the Knave of Coins merely started laughing. Brows furrowed, she waited for her partner to calm again before silently questioning the uncharacteristic behaviour.  
  
“She sees far less than she thinks. Her ‘allies’ abandoned her with only my word as Star Camp leader that their presence was unnecessary.”


	77. Allseeing

“The way forward, though cleared of living obstacles, is overseen by a powerful, unbreakable enchantment,” Crilgarin explained softly as they made their way towards the Hierophant’s Court. “The Shroud of Omission will not help here, as there is no brain or memory to tamper with.”  
  
“Fortunately,” the Fae smiled as they came to a stop outside a large round cavern, “the way past is simple. There is only a predetermined requirement for granting passage.”  
  
“And what is the requirement?”  
  
Crilgarin’s grin only grew wider. “Why, possession of the Key of the Court. Argine herself has cleared the way for you.”


	78. Curiosity

“I cannot follow you; I must make sure the gnomes are ready and that your escape route is clear. But before you go,” the Fae’s voice was quieter now, curious and wary, “I must ask. Why didn’t you kill Argine when she asked for your betrayal?”  
  
There was silence as she stared out into the stone chamber. “I don’t know what she’s capable of, to attack her head-on,” she replied after a moment. “Plus,” she turned back to the Knave, grinning viciously beneath her mask, “I want to see how many gnomes she can kill before they take her down.”


	79. Presumption

She couldn’t help but laugh at Argine’s arrogance. There, in the central chamber of the Hierophant’s Court, was a table neatly set with a glistening pair of daggers and a small bag of gold. Checking both for any malicious magics and finding none, she sheathed the weapons at her side and added the payment to her pack.  
  
As Crilgarin had promised, she now had her choice of paths to take. There was no debate. She approached the door to the Western hall and smoothly slid the Key to the Court into its place. The magical lock unwound before her eyes.


	80. Oversight

She was mildly disappointed in the Knave’s information when she found that the Hierophant had been accompanied into the wing by three of her guards. Ah well, it wasn’t like they were hard to kill. She mused on their obvious lack of training even as she slid her new blades into their ribs and throats. Laying the last down silently, she paused for a moment to savour the banter echoing through the cavern.  
  
“It’s time to end this farce, little man,” Argine nearly growled.  
  
“I couldn’t agree more,” Grim rejoined, darkly amused as he spotted her crouched behind their enemy.


	81. The Plant

It was the work of only a moment to creep closer to the oblivious Hierophant. Gently, she withdrew the Shroud of Omission and its cargo. Maneuvering silently, she was careful to keep the object safely covered until... whatever it was... was nestled firmly in Argine’s pack.  
  
As soon as she drew the Shroud from its burden, the halls were flooded with gnomes. Her mind quickly reasserted its knowledge of the Missives and just how dangerous her current position was. Grinning triumphantly, she rolled to the side, barely avoiding Argine’s notice as the Hierophant whirled around to meet the new threat.


	82. Resolution

They weren’t completely out of danger yet but, as she leapt from the ledge where Argine now fought for her life, she couldn’t wipe the triumphant smile from her face. Grim met her on the lower pathway, looking nothing like his name suggested. She let out a startled - and quickly stifled - shriek as he lifted her and spun them in a giddy circle.  
  
Crilgarin watched them from further on with an indulgent smile as Phasmer gaped beside her. Closing his mouth with gentle pressure on his chin, the Fae laughed lightly. “Now, now,” she murmured, “It is rude to stare.”


	83. Triumph

“I’d say this calls for a bit of a celebration,” Phasmer announced as they watched the gnomes subdue the egotistical Varani that had attempted to kill them all.  
  
“There’s still work to be done first,” Grim warned the younger man seriously. Phasmer’s face fell, and Grim held his sober expression a moment longer before he cracked. The women chuckled behind their hands while the young thief sputtered at the joke.  
  
Crilgarin took his arm and began to lead him away from the Court. “I agree. We’ll go get things started,” she called over her shoulder, “And we won’t wait up!”


	84. Indulgence

Despite the Knave’s teasing words, she and Grim followed up the tunnels swiftly. When they emerged above the overrun camp, however, neither Phasmer nor Crilgarin were anywhere to be seen.  
  
They watched as a small company of gnomes stalked between the abandoned caravans. She looked up when she felt Grim take her hand. “Up for a bit more mayhem, dove?”  
  
When she only blinked, confused, he gestured out across Sun Camp. “We’ll need this back eventually, and there’s no need to have to repair more than necessary.”  
  
She grinned and turned to paint the rocks of Detyre a deeper red.


	85. Bold

“Well,” he murmured when the slaughter was finished, “I suspect we’ll find them at the bar in Whitestone, though I’m reluctant to join them there.”  
  
“I have acquired some properties...” Her eyes slid to the side, evasive and faintly embarrassed. “One’s just up in Menetyre; not far really.”  
  
“I may not like the desert sands, but I appreciate not having to travel far for privacy.” He grasped her chin gently, turning it until she looked him in the eye once more. Smirking, he boldly asked, “Shall we go and have a party, dove?”  
  
She only kissed him deeply in reply.


End file.
